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Tucking my order pad into my pocket, I slid into the booth beside them. My legs instantly thanked me. “AMD?”
“Age-related macular degeneration,” Tate replied. He swore the words like they were a curse. “Bad stuff.”
I’d known his uncle had eye problems, but I figured at that age they were the same as everyone else’s. Tate’s expression said differently, however.
“Anyway, when I get back I’m hiring someone,” he went on. “I don’t care what the old man says. I can’t run the sales lot and fix the cars. Not anymore.”
The four of them had ordered the same thing: chicken parmesan. I’d tried talking them out of it, but they’d been adamant and stubborn. I brought them the calamari anyway.
“You said he’s been staying at his girlfriend’s house,” said Jacob. “So you’ve been running that place by yourself?”
“I’ve got two other mechanics,” said Tate. “And some guy who runs the books and does the appointments, too. But it’s not a huge shop, but we’ve got a lot of people coming through. When my unc was younger, he could juggle things. Now he can’t.”
“And the worst part is he doesn’t want to admit it,” I theorized. “Right?”
Tate dragged the piece of fried squid through our house marinara sauce and pointed it at me. “Spot on.”
“Alright,” said Cole. “Anything special you want us to do?”
“Just keep an eye on the place maybe,” Tate said. “Stop in. Ask for Max. See if Max needs anything, and if he does, see if you can help him with it.”
“Good enough,” Jacob nodded. “We can do that.”
Tate nodded, his expression much more relaxed. “I appreciate it.”
I watched him pop the calamari into his mouth and start chewing. A few moments later he shot me an approving look. “Alright, these little chicken rings aren’t bad,” he said.
I laughed on the inside, keeping the straightest face I could muster. “Glad you like em’.”
“Serena!”
The shrill voice of my manager hit me from behind like a bucket of icy water. Twisting in the booth, I held up one finger suggesting I’d be right there.
“Uh oh,” smiled Cole. “Someone’s in trouble.”
“If anyone’s in trouble it’s him,” I said, jerking my head sideways. “Wait until he sees how much overtime I accumulated this week.”
Jacob nodded. “I’ve been swamped with lawns too,” he said. “And staying up late studying hasn’t helped productivity.”
“Studying, eh?” smirked Tate. He shot me a sideways glance before tearing into the calamari again. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Well that plus studying,” Jacob admitted.
“I could help you with that calculus if you want,” I told him. “It’s been a while, but it should come back to me quickly. I vaguely remember acing it in college.”
“Aced calculus,” Cole whistled admiringly. “Look at you.”
“I really loved college,” I said, losing myself in the nostalgia of thinking back. “I was a little bit of a nerd, actually.”
“Did you finish?” asked Tate.
“No.”
“And why not?”
“I hated the degree I was going for,” I told them. “Business.”
“Just business?” asked Tate.
